


Deluge

by GreatGawain



Series: Floyd Fun [6]
Category: Pink Floyd
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26484154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreatGawain/pseuds/GreatGawain
Summary: A particularly heavy rainstorm prevents David from leaving Richard's house, giving him time to learn some things about himself - and his host.
Relationships: David Gilmour/Richard Wright
Series: Floyd Fun [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772377
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	Deluge

**Author's Note:**

> Just in time for September 15th. Love you always Richard 💙 Rest easy you beautiful soul

Rain fell in buckets across the landscape, drenching everything that dared venture out as well as anything that might have the misfortune of being permanently fixed. The water poured so angrily from the heavens that one could actually observe it running down the hill. It pushed its way over, through, between the cracks in the concrete and the poor blades of grass that did their damnedest to stand in its way, but they were no match for the miniature flood that flattened them. Along the tree line a damp squirrel flicked its tail; it watched the weather for just a moment, as if to weigh the option of whether or not it was worth the trouble to fetch its faraway-buried tree nut prize, then decided against it and scurried away into the safety of the nearby bushes. It had enough sense to know that its treasure would still be there after the storm passed over. The uncaring rain continued on without hesitation; occasional lightning and equally frightening thunder threatened the skies every couple minutes with their visual and audial menace. Truly, not a setting in which to be caught outdoors.  
It was during this particular rainstorm that David found himself stranded on the island of Richard Wright’s London Home, standing in the front doorway, waiting for the opportune moment to make a break for his car and avoid the worst of the rain. But this was in vain as he had, at this point, been standing there, with hands on his hips and brow furrowed, for nearly half an hour by the time Richard came up behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head just enough to catch the sliver of sympathy in his face as he spoke.

“You might as well come have a drink with us. This looks like a dreadfully long afternoon.”  
David turned his gaze fully to the other and produced a half-smile. The siege did seem to be all but hopeless at this point. “Alright. You may be on to something.”

As David joined the company of the others – a casual gathering of a few roadies, secondhand friends, and bandmates, though the other two members of the group had long since departed – he found himself lost in thought over his future. After only experiencing life with _the_ Pink Floyd for nearly two years (David paused for a moment at the realization of the passing time), he still was unsure about whether or not he would continue on participating in their endeavors. Syd’s departure now felt like a lifetime ago, and though he should have embraced his current role by now, something was prohibiting him from relishing in their growing fame.  
He accepted, mostly gratefully, a glass filled with too much brandy and a single ice cube from Peter. He considered his options should he _not_ continue on this path of musicmaking and songwriting – and eventually came to the conclusion that he would more than likely be right back where he had started: begging for scraps on the streets of Paris, touting his intermediate French at whoever would care to listen so that they would take enough pity on him to drop a meager couple of _nouveaux francs_ into his otherwise barren guitar case. Yes, this lifestyle was far superior, he decided, and David swallowed the burning nectar and welcomed its sting (and slightly nauseating scorch) into his throat in a silent toast to his good judgement years prior.

The groans and swears of protest that accompanied the flickering of electricity shook him enough to bring him back to the present. He also noticed that the drone of rain had increased by at least a fraction of its previous decibels, aided by harmonies of moaning winds.

“Damn it Dick, I fucking hope you have some candles lying around lest we have to read these reviews in complete darkness. ‘M not a fucking bat, you know.”  
Richard outwardly cringed at the inconsiderate nickname with which Alan had graced him, something only David seemed to notice among a sea of glossy, intoxicated eyes. The host blinked extra slowly and rose from the plush armchair. He set his half-empty glass of Chardonnay – or half-full, as the guitarist tried most occasions to observe – down on the low table next to him as he spoke.  
“I’ll see what I can find. Try to behave yourselves while I’m gone.”  
A chorus of drunken laughter and jests marked his statement as he walked out of the room, giving only the briefest of pauses to use David’s convenient shoulder to steady himself as he left. The guitarist concealed his start and amusement with a well-placed snort, hoping it would distract from his lightly flushed cheeks, which were so colored not only for fault of the drink he finished with a long swig.

Several minutes later, now armed with another glass of alcohol – this time a sickening mixture of Moscato and gin and _two_ ice cubes, courtesy of a now rather twisted Peter – David also stood and excused himself in the middle of Steve’s jovial reading of a particularly negative critique in _Rolling Stone_ , which described his (he almost shivered at the possessive) band’s newest song as “…the same insubstantial mélange as the rest of the record. If Pink Floyd is looking for some new dimensions, they haven't found them here. Try freaking out again, Pink Floyd.” While the group howled with laughter and objection, a dismissive and bemused grin threatening to crawl upon his own lips in response, he proceeded down the hallway, bare feet creeping up the stairs of Richard’s home in search of its owner.

He had only been here a handful of times and thus still felt like something of a stranger, being careful to tread lightly as he entered into unknown territory. The precipitation continued its dull but noticeable assault against the walls and roof of the house as he ascended; he could have sworn it had yet again intensified. _Christ, might have to row home if this keeps up_ he thought as his feet landed on the staggered hardwood surfaces. His mind briefly turned to his beloved outdoor cat, potentially stranded in the grim monsoon that he was sure was terrorizing his own home at the moment, before he reassured himself the feline had enough sense to keep within the safety of the dry back porch – as he promptly collided with Richard, who was carrying a considerable number of fat, previously-burned candles and a small stack of incense piled neatly on top. That is, until the impact tumbled all to the floor with a soft thud as it landed on the thick shag carpeting in the upstairs hallway. David’s drink splashed the tiniest bit and escaped his glass, where it joined the fallen items as he simply rubbed his arm and watched the event unfold before him, not registering what was happening until his bandmate was starting to kneel to collect his lost articles. He flushed red with embarrassment and guilt before joining him on his own knee.  
“Fuck-! I’m sorry Rick, I just- I was just looking for you, to see if I could be of any help.”  
Richard remained kneeling on the floor, the noise of the deluge increasing as they stared at one another. He finally spoke – softly, as was his way, hardly noticeable above the ambient rain and rumbling thunder.  
“It’s alright. Thank you.”  
David picked up one of the candles as a measure of reassurance; its odor wafted up and he appreciated a scent of cedar and pine trees. “I’ve had a few, but please, let me help you.”

The lights flickered again, teasing to fade permanently, and it was at this moment that he was struck with such beauty that he nearly could have tumbled backwards down the stairs. Upon meeting Richard’s equally blue eyes with his own, his heart skipped a beat and he found himself drowning in voices that recalled his bandmate’s exquisite charm. One in particular echoed throughout his mind: “possessor of manly good looks, with long, luscious eyelashes that made the girls curious about him.” He found himself just as curious as Richard gazed back, perhaps likewise recalling countlessly heard tales of a young Cambridge man with downright cruelly handsome visage. David secretly hoped as much, while he fumbled with the candle in one hand and his drink in the other.  
“Uhh…” He breathed the syllable feebly in a moment of weakness, feeling helplessly lost as the keyboardist folded again and started to gather the rest of his burden once more in his arms. His heart quickened as the next flash of lightning, closely followed by a terrible scourge of thunder, caused him to instinctively loose the grip on his fingers and sent both the candle and the rest of his poorly-mixed cocktail to the floor. The distant sounds of drugged and drunken reactions hardly reached them while, in the absence of shattering glass protected by the soft carpeting, both men gasped and directed their gaze to the floor between them. The diluted ruby liquid soaked itself into the flooring, not unlike the pouring rain that tried to continue seeping into the ground outside.

He suddenly found the words rapidly escaping his lips. “Oh my God, Rick, I’m so fucking sorry-”  
“Please, it’s fine. Do you know how many times I’ve already done the same since moving here?”  
“I feel terrible, let me clean it up before it sets in.”  
“That’s what tea towels are for. Really, calm down: it’s _fine_.”  
David watched, eyes wide with regret and embarrassment, as Richard turned away from his forgotten cargo to a hall closet and procured a small pile of neatly stacked towels. He knelt once again and treated the affected area with a care the younger could recognize was also akin to the way he played piano; delicately, but with purpose and a specific resolve unmatched by anyone else. It simultaneously warmed his heart and made him ache for the same kind of affection, as the alcohol started to catch up with him and he felt his vision (and the rest of him) starting to sway, ever so slightly – and hopefully unnoticeably.

“Are you alright?”  
Apparently it was noticeable.

David almost let the question pass before he realized it was obviously directed at him. Contrasting how his own generous helpings had started showing their effects, Richard seemed to be holding his liquor remarkably well. It was a bit off-putting. The storm begged against the windows to be let inside, but the glass held fast and refused its entry. “Yeah, fine, just a bit tipsy. I do hope I haven’t ruined Juliette’s floors,” he half-forced a laugh. Richard took it in stride and responded with a smile.  
“It’ll take more than that to make you a rude guest. I suppose if you insist on being useful, you can deliver those while I take care of this.”  
David wasn’t as convinced. “Please, allow me…”

Richard was beside himself as his guest then took the fabric from his hands and proceeded to give his best effort in cleaning up the mild stain. So rarely had he witnessed such generosity from a peer; however, he knew how much of a gentleman David could be.  
“You know, you really don’t need to-”  
But the hand he extended was blocked by another.

“I want to.”

Something told him he had spoken it with much more feeling than he had intended, about much more than he had intended, but something else told him that all the feeling he had meant was present in what he had said.  
The lights went out for a solid five seconds before recovering, but neither noticed. They were staring into each other’s magnificent eyes and were blissfully unaware of the world around them. Whether it was the alcohol or not, something stirred deep between them both and manifested itself in that very moment. Blue on blue. Desire on desire. Longing on longing; and that struck David with piercing realization.

Richard was different. Richard was _special._

He grasped for those gentle hands and held them with fervent need; it surprised him that they didn’t pull back. Their eyes remained locked. Heavy rain battered down with the same persistence as his hurry and his heart quickened in time with the furious winds. David considered his last chance to back down should he wish to, but from his view it was too late anyway; his complicated but made-up mind spurred on his determination that persuaded him to do the unthinkable, and he pulled his friend in for an intimate embrace.  
The paltry electricity signaled its permanent retreat with a faint sizzle and the guests complained with loud enthusiasm – but their host was occupied with something much more engaging.

It had only lasted a few seconds but in David’s mind it had lasted for half a lifetime. At last they separated, and he looked into wide eyes that seemed surprised, bewildered, shocked… but not frightened. They once again studied one another with close scrutiny. He himself was lightly panting with nerves and excitement, and the other seemed to be doing the same as reality set in and the paranoid doubt filled his mind. Had he read too much into something that wasn’t really there? What had come over him? Had he just made a horrendous mistake? What had he _done_?

“Dave… no…”

His heart started to race, then pound. This was wrong: his actions were supposed to be reciprocated. He suddenly realized the grim reality. It would never, could never work, and he was utterly foolish to try. How dare he attempt to take Richard away from what – and who – he already had. The worry made him feel sick and he silently cursed his decision to drink as he felt overwhelmed by shame, grief, and rejection. How he wished he could take back those last several seconds, kept them hidden within as something of a fantasy to revisit alone. How selfish to think it could _ever_ be something. He had to make things right before he made any irreparable damage.  
“I- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking… I might’ve had too much to drink, I fucked up…”  
“Dave, listen to me.”  
He cast his eyes down and tried to shy away before doing anything else impulsive, but instead found his back pressing against the spindles of the wooden handrail. Richard reached out to firmly grab his forearm anyway, trapping him on the floor as he moved to be nearer to him. “No, no-!”  
“Fuck’s sake, David, just _listen_!”  
The mentioned felt loving arms wrap around his torso from the side as silent, shameful tears threatened to slip down his cheek, despite how hard his impeded mind tried to keep them hidden.  
There was a tentative but heavy sigh. “I- I know what you’re thinking, alright? Please don’t blame yourself. I would be lying to myself if I said… I hadn’t considered doing the same thing before.”

David froze. What was he saying?

“I… admire you. For… a lot of things, really,” he continued. The rain and wind were positively roaring beyond the confines of his house as they huddled against each other on the floor, swaddled in darkness but with just enough light to define their silhouettes. Richard hiccupped a wine-flavored breath, but kept going. “You’re so self-aware and you don’t let things stand in your way. Those are skills I truly can’t say I’ve mastered yet myself.” He felt him barely, just barely, starting to tremble now.  
“…Dave, I feel I can say with utmost confidence that I know what you’re feeling right now… because I feel it, too. I promise you I do. And if I hadn’t made a commitment years ago… damn it, I _might_ have the courage now to acknowledge it. But…” David swore with everything in himself he heard a crack in his voice. “…I can’t. I just can’t. And I hope to fucking God you can understand, because I wouldn’t want to lose one of the best friends I’ve ever had to something like this. Please, try to see where I’m coming from, because… because… well, I honestly don’t know where I would be without you in my life – and I don’t really care to find out.”

The gathering beneath them continued to bustle and murmur from afar. In the absence of the record player the group had taken to creating their own music and joined one another in drunken, uncoordinated song, swaying activated lighters into the air above their heads. A floor above them, the two bandmates were still as stones. The thoughts in David’s mind simultaneously flooded in and ebbed away like the banks of a swollen river in this storm: threatening danger before retreating back to safety.  
All those times since the day they had met that both had noticed but neither had ever acknowledged: a warm compliment to the keyboardist’s floating chords that hung in the air and supported the rest of their talents with unparalleled grace, a genuine praise of the guitarist’s particularly exceptional solo that had sent shivers down its listener’s spine, a word of soft encouragement in the aftermath of one of their bassist’s outbreaks of temper, an exchanged glance and smile while they laughed as their drummer regaled them with another humorous story from his childhood… all of them had meant something, no matter how small. It was readily apparent in hindsight as David stared forward in an attempt to gather his thoughts, desperately avoiding eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Dave. We’ll put it behind us.”  
The warm grip left his shoulders and he hated to feel it go, but he was still paralyzed as he realized he probably mistook his silence for indifference. As Richard stood to leave, David found his hand again and rose as well, finally able to look him in the eye again. He saw genuine, real love, and a touch of sorrow over the circumstances. He saw longing and hesitation and he wished he could make them go away for him, but he knew now it wasn’t possible – at least, not in _that_ way. It was now clear to him that there was more than one way to love Richard.  
“Rick…”  
He took both his arms within his hands and gently squeezed them.  
“…Thank you. For understanding. And thank you for not resenting me. I never want to know life without you either, and I would be honored to continue mine with you. As musicians, as bandmates… friends...”

Richard gazed back for a moment, then finally, genuinely, smiled. He returned the embrace on his arms before reaching his hands up to cup David’s face with a tender touch, brushing a piece of hair away from his face and following the length of it with his fingers, all the way down to the ends. Despite their incompatibility, Richard granted his partner one more show of affection, this time slow, measured, and sweet. They melded together like their melodies did in concert, as if created by the heavens to perpetually be together for all eternity. Divine intervention or not, both were certain that there would not be another day in their lives where on was not somehow present in the other’s.  
“Come on, then. Can’t leave those fools in the dark much longer or they’re liable to burn the house down, even in this downpour,” he whispered. David simply stared back in awe and lust before he felt himself grinning too, and his heart melted at the lovely, inebriated twinkle in those painfully beautiful eyes. “Right.”

Temporary lighting in hand, and exchanging flushed, hesitant giggles with each other, they made their way back to the group. Each proudly presented their findings while gratefully accepting a new drink, to the cheers and applause of a completely oblivious crowd. In the moment, none of the attendees were sober enough to notice the gentle shower outside, the near-silent whispering of the winds, the softest rumblings of faraway thunder too distant to pose any kind of threat. At last the great inundation had finally begun to cease. Before long it would be a quiet, albeit damp, evening once again.

And yet, at that point, leaving Richard’s house was the very last thing on David’s mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so this may make my profile look like a liar now because THIS IS A NEW PIECE!!! I went against what I've been saying for years now and decided to try my hand at writing slash again. Had this piece hanging around in limbo since about May 1 of this year. Definitely not as effortless? as it used to be (I don't want to say "easy" because it never was) but it still felt something like nostalgic to do  
> I'm definitely out of practice with this so I kept it pretty mild and pleASE go easy on me. Will consider continuing this by popular demand so leave me some feedback and I'll mull it over~ But for now I hope you enjoy this sweet little work of my favorite pairing with my favorite boys


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